


What Goes Up Must Come Down

by kickassfu



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Geralt's POV, Humor, M/M, anyway they take a bath together, discussion of child neglect, if that's triggering to you please don't read it, it's all innocent though, it's not very explicit but still, they're soft bois
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:15:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23418847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kickassfu/pseuds/kickassfu
Summary: Well, he’s an exception. Because he has been an exception since the beginning. And will be until the end. Also, Jaskier is somehow very careful when it comes to his scars. Rarely asks him about them, even as he begs for information about his last monster kill. Touches them almost reverently when he helps wash Geralt up, tenderly, lovingly.It’s strange, makes Geralt feel off-kilter. Respected, cared for, treated like a precious thing - he hates it.  He absolutely loves it.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 21
Kudos: 308
Collections: Best Geralt





	What Goes Up Must Come Down

**Author's Note:**

> Got this prompt on tumblr: Person A laughing and joking through the horribly traumatic story of how they got one of their scars. Person A stops suddenly when they see the reaction of tears streaming down Person B’s cheeks.
> 
> And I tried my best, to comply, while turning it on its head so you don’t expect what’s coming I guess lol hope you enjoy?

Geralt has many scars on his body, big and small and ragged. Ugly wretched things. Scars that map his life story. And he remembers all of them, how they came to be; there’s a lot he regrets. All his small mistakes forever burned into his skin, for everyone to see. 

_Like a diary of all his fuck-ups._ He thinks as he looks down at his body, the water warm against his skin trying to release his tension.

Not surprisingly, he doesn’t like talking about them. Doesn’t like people seeing them, much less touch them. Even as he pretends he doesn’t care.

Jaskier is-

Well, he’s an exception. Because he has been an exception since the beginning. And will be until the end. Also, Jaskier is somehow very careful when it comes to his scars. Rarely asks him about them, even as he begs for information about his last monster kill. Touches them almost reverently when he helps wash Geralt up, tenderly, lovingly. 

It’s strange, makes Geralt feel off-kilter. Respected, cared for, treated like a precious thing - he _hates_ it. _He absolutely loves it._

Everything makes much more sense, when he finally sees _it_. Yes, Jaskier has his own scars, small little things that Geralt never paid much attention to. But when he see the giant scar on his hip, that goes all the way down to his thigh...he _understands_.

He wants to be respectful of Jaskier, the same he’s been with him, but he can’t stop staring at it, trying to make sense of it. And of course, Jaskier catches him looking.

Jaskier just laughs and rolls his eyes, “Scootch over.” 

Geralt still isn’t sure why they’re taking a bath together, remembers something about Jaskier saying it’s cold and they’re dirty, or- he doesn’t know. It still doesn’t make much sense, and he can’t think about much else besides Jaskier’s huge fucking scar. Which means Jaskier can totally read that on his face, because of course he can. Too many years spent together after all.

“It’s not a big deal, my dear Witcher. You can just ask.”

Forcing himself to look away, Geralt keeps silent. He’s not going to do that. Not when it might hurt Jaskier.

Jaskier splashes water on his face, trying to get Geralt’s eyes on his again, “Really. It’s actually kind of a funny story.”

He seriously doubts it. There’s no way Jaskier has been so careful all these years, if that scar means nothing. Still, he lets him speak without interrupting.

Taking a deep breath, Jaskier smiles and starts his story, “I was a pretty rambunctious kid, couldn’t really keep still much - you know, the same as I am now, but with even _more_ energy. My parents couldn’t really handle me, left me to fend for myself. Can you imagine a five year old me, able to do whatever I please, without anyone stopping me?”

Jaskier looks away from Geralt, the smile a little more subdued now, his fingers drawing figures in the water, “I mean there were the servants, but they were busy taking care of the place, and everything _else_. So little old me, would just wander off to the forest - I mean I could never resist a good adventure, even as a child - and one time…”

No longer able to stop himself, Geralt grabs one of Jaskier’s hands. He doesn’t like where this is going, hates it even more that Jaskier is _smiling_ , even as he speaks of the neglect he suffered as a child. Wants him to know he’s not alone, that he’s there; in a way Geralt’s trying to anchor Jaskier there. Jaskier looks amused by the gesture, as if Geralt’s exaggerating, that he should be laughing at the funny story, not be mad.

“Anyway, one time I heard some beautiful birds up a tree and I just convinced myself I had to see them. Convinced myself I could climb it. And I did. I climbed up pretty far, actually. But what goes up must come down eventually. I fell, hurt myself quite badly. Hours went by until someone came to find me.”

Geralt doesn’t cry, not for himself, not for anyone else. So used to pushing down all of his emotions, after all life is a barrage of shit you can’t let yourself drown in. If you start crying for one thing, you’ll never stop. So Geralt doesn’t cry. But his heart hurts for the sweet bard that pretends everything is always ok. 

He doesn’t cry for Jaskier, even though his eyes do sting.

But mostly his hands itch with the need to do something.

All he can think to do, is pull Jaskier into a hug. A very awkward naked hug, where Jaskier is practically in Geralt’s lap. Awkward and wet and _weird_.

Jaskier does let himself be pulled into it, yelps at the unexpected feel of Geralt’s _whole_ body. Definitely does not complain about any of it, “If I knew telling stupid childhood stories would get me _this_ , I’d-”

“It’s not stupid.” Geralt grunts, pulling away enough to look into Jaskier’s eyes.

It’s very rare to find Jaskier wordless, but somehow the bard in his lap is unable to say anything, so Geralt continues, “You deserved better.”

He did. 

He _does_. 

For the first time since the conversation started, Jaskier’s forced smile slips off, “Bloody hell. It’s not a funny story at all, is it? It’s fucked up. I have a fucked up childhood.”

At that Geralt does laugh. He doesn’t mean to, but he can’t believe that it’s taken this long for Jaskier to realize the truth. And that apparently fucked up childhoods were just the norm around here.

“I didn’t expect a bath with you would end up in the realization of childhood neglect. I did hope I would end up in your lap at some point though, so at least that happened. I guess I have to learn to take the good with the bad.” Jaskier says, wiggling his eyebrows.

Only then did Geralt remember that they were two very naked men, hugging. That he had Jaskier, the man he had less than innocent feeling for, on top of him. Naked. Both of them. Naked and wet. And-

_Definitely not the time for this._

Geralt pushes Jaskier away gently, and gets up. Noticing the way Jaskier’s eyes swoop downward, and Geralt’s never been shy about being seen naked (and Jaskier’s seen him like that plenty of times, after all he does help him bathe sometimes) but today everything’s too much, so he practically runs off to the bedroom. 

Hearing Jaskier laugh wildly, _beautifully_ , behind him, Geralt smiles, his heart now at peace. 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm also kickassfu on tumblr~~


End file.
